Her Monthly Friend
by Immortal Shade
Summary: After being mistreated by his beloved Gemma one morning, poor Kartik must face the sheer terror of understanding why she behaves the way she does every so often... OOC Karma humour
1. You Bloody Vermin!

**So, since I have accepted the ending of TSFT, I've decided to lighten the mood with some OOC humour on the characters' part. Now, let me just say that my sense of humour is well... rather... interesting. You've been warned. D**

**Chapter 1 - "You Bloody Vermin!"**

**Kartik's POV**

"Mmm..." I shift my position slightly so that I lay sprawled on my bed. The pillow is soft and surprisingly warm, and I eagerly bury my face further into its comforting depths. Half-conscious, I vaguely feel the texture of lacing against my lips, and without thinking, I take it into my mouth. Once more, a sigh of contentment escapes my lips as I can not recall having ever slept so soundly in my life.

Something tickles my closed eyelids, ushering the automatic movement of my hand to brush it away. With the irritation gone, the hand comes to rest on the pillow beside my head. Strangely enough, the pillow fits, or rather _fills_ the shape of my palm perfectly as if rising up to meet my hand...

I am not sure what happens thereafter. All I am aware of is a female's high-pitched scream filling my ears for what seems like an eternity. The awful sound continues to ring even after I bolt upright from my peaceful slumber, my lids still half-closed. "What the...?" I begin before realizing something is squirming under me, and this something sounds very much like a certain red-head that I dearly love.

"Gemma?" My voice sounds foreign to me; it is the result of a night filled with one too many drinks. However, I hardly have time to ponder my previous night's events, nor am I spared a second to wonder why my beloved English girl is sleeping with me...

"You bloody vermin! Get off me!" My eyes pop open when I hear her curse. Her preoccupation with throwing threats and vulgar insults seem to disallow the realization that it is me she is shouting at.

Amidst her vicious attempts at throwing punches, I slowly clamber off of her, all the while trying not to laugh at her prissy fit. In a matter of seconds, the grin on my face is wiped off and replaced with a painful expression as a knee successfully connects with my tender spot. My throat lets out an odd noise, something between a squeak and a whimper, as I roll off the high bed, taking the sheets with me and landing non-too-gently on the cold floor.

I am fuming when part of the pain subsides and I am able to form speech once more, "What the hell did you do that for?!"

"Kartik?" I see her face peering nervously over the edge of the bed. There is a leather book in her hands; I can only imagine what she would do with it had this "intruder" not been me.

I wince as I sit, then stand up, "Yes, it's me. Who did you think it was?" I was still rather angry, and my brows furrow to demonstrate this.

"A lady can never be sure, can she?" She purses her lips, "And besides, what in carnations were you doing in my bed?"

"Well, I _was_ sleeping.. before you assaulted me." I am met with a glare. My mouth twitches.

"You have a perfectly suitable bed of your own, Kartik. You needn't steal mine as well for your luxury."

"That I do, but then again, I wasn't really sleeping on your _bed_ now was I?" I do not hesitate to smirk.

Gemma's face resumes a colour similar to that of her hair's. She is well aware of what I mean, and I feel rather smug that she is at a loss for a proper comeback. This only makes me grin further.

"As I recall," I continue, folding my arms over my chest, "my pillow was exceptional. Smelled _very _fresh, almost as alluring as you."

"You are a beast, Kartik --" She scoffs.

"Don't you know it.." I cut in.

She ignores my statement. "You have no right to barge into my room in the middle of the night with me unawares and completely defenseless --"

"Actually, I did not _barge_ --"

"--And using my space to such a liberty that you convinced yourself that I shall not be bothered in the morning by your uninvited presence!"

I cock a brow while she pauses to catch her breath. "Are you quite done?"

"As a matter of fact, no." She climbs off the bed and approaches me in what she thinks is an intimidating expression. Unfortunately, she does not realize how hot I am growing from witnessing her in such a dominant state.

"I do believe, Kartik, that you are under the impression that I am unable to resist you, that I shall swoon and feel faint in the knees each time you present yourself. But I assure you that is absolute poppycock. Next time you intend on using me as a cushion, do not think I won't stick pins in you!"

"Are you done _now_?" I ask, feigning a bored yawn.

"...Yes," she concludes after a moment of hesitancy, then imitates my pose by crossing her arms. This only succeeds in bringing my gaze lower to settle on the cleavage that had suddenly appeared as a result of her action. There is a tingling in my trousers that is difficult to disacknowledge.

"Well, Miss Doyle, it seems that you've got me all figured out," I say, clasping my hands behind my back and pacing the room as if I were an Englishman thinking of what to dictate to his scribe. "I delight in terrorizing adolescent females of the red-haired variety, especially at the dead of night when all her house attendants are sound asleep. And nothing pleases me more than to ravish said damsel who has managed to _accidentally__ neglect _shutting and locking her window, which I might add is a foolish thing to do since she may quite easily be intruded upon by nightly insects or even worse, other repulsive species."

I turn to look at her and smile to myself when I note her glowering. Her mouth opens to defend herself, but I quickly interrupt. "From this, I see two possible conclusions, Miss Doyle. One, I am a sick brute who chose not to take your virtue even though I easily could have without your knowing; or two, you purposefully kept the window open in hopes that a certain lad might help warm your bed."

"Why, I never.. you dare accuse me..." I take pleasure in watching her stumble for the appropriate words. "Kartik, you pompous gibing.. ass!"

"Language, Miss Doyle, language." I wag my index finger at her in mock disapproval.

"Kartik, you are to leave my room right this instant! I will deal with you later!" She begins to push me towards the open window; however, she is sorely mistaken if she thinks I shall oblige and take my leave without having some real fun.

"How about you deal with me _now_, and save some quality time for later?" I suggest, flashing her a grin that would normally have sent Emily staring dreamily in enchantment, but the effect it has on my Gemma is most disappointing.

"Ha, in your dreams!" She barks while throwing her head back. All in all, I must say that I find that motion rather unattractive even on her, which is saying a lot.

"Well, that's reassuring then," I take a bold step forward, "because I just happen to believe in my dreams." Like lightning, my hands have sprung up and caught her by the wrists. Her gasp makes my heart -among other parts, flutter, and I eagerly take that as my cue to kiss her.

She does not resist when I dip my head and cover her lips with my own, and for a second I am sure she has come to her senses and surrendered to her undeniable attraction towards me. How could she not? I mean, it is blatantly obvious that she personally delivers my meals each day in order to catch a hopeful glimpse of my glorious figure, not just to display her hospitality and keep me healthy and alive... though I certainly hope the latter is also true. Even back at Spence, she wasn't taking walks in the woods alone just because she could not fall asleep. Oh no, it was distinctly an excuse so that someone may _help_ her fall asleep. If these reasons are not enough to explain her sexual intentions towards me, I can not possibly think what are.

How very wrong I am. Apparently, this little rose has more thorns than what meets the eye.

So absorbed in the kiss am I that I failed to realize the shuffle against my leg and the gaining proximity of her disobedient knee. For the second time that morning, I am sent crumbling onto the floor, eyes squeezed shut in pain, and rolling in the fetal position. "Bloody hell, Gemma, you don't fight fair at all," I managed to wheeze.

"No, I suppose I don't," she says coolly. "Why? Is there a problem?"

I hear her footsteps approach. "You tell _me_..." I open my eyes to see her peering pitilessly at me. She offers a hand, which I take rather hesitantly.

With surprising force, she pulls me to my feet then shows me to the window. "As I said before, I shall deal with you later..." Her tone is exceptionally cold which makes me wonder if I _have_ gone over the top this time. She usually isn't this strict with my mischievous ways. Normally, I would have my fun, she would pout and put on a stubborn act, then somehow we'd always end up clinging to each other in a passionate snogging session.

I am left to ponder this as she watches me exit through her window. There is an empty feeling in my stomach; I feel as if I were a toddler having just been rejected his favourite treat after a week long of waiting. Or, as a more appropriate analogy, Tom having been rejected from the Athenaeum after being led to believe for over a month that he was a welcome member. And how do I know this? Let's just say I was the unfortunate one who had to bear his cursing and unmanly sobbing throughout the entire ride back home. I must say, however, that my vocabulary has increased thanks to Mr. Doyle's vocal drunkeness, though most of the new words revolve around descriptions of holes and mutts, and that's being mild about it.

Even as I arrive at the base of the estate and hobble awkwardly towards the stables, gathering a few curious stares along the way, I can not help but continue to wonder what had made Gemma so displeased.

I sit down in the straws against a stall gate, skimming through all that I've been told about women and their questionable behaviours. I recall having heard something about females and a certain time of each month when they would act bitterly without reason. _Men... menstruation_, was it? The word is foreign on my tongue, but perhaps it holds the answer to the sudden hostility of my beloved towards me. I shall have to inquire her later when she "deals" with me.

**Ooh la la, Kartik sure likes his "pillow".**

**Poor Kartik, I do hope he knows what he's doing... if not, he might just get a third **_**"oomph!"**_**, as if two weren't enough. **

**Please review!**

**P.S. I'm not quite digging the title of this story right now. If you have some interesting suggestions, please prop them my way (by comment or message).****  
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	2. Bedridden

**Hmm... I hope my sense of humour hasn't scared off anyone yet...**

**Sorry about the long wait; university does that to you. Anyway, here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter Two - Bedridden**

**Gemma's POV**

I have been vexed for days now, it seems. I do not quite understand it. All it takes is a single spark to ignite my temper and then the fire becomes extinguishable. Sometimes, there is no spark at all to commence the flame; I just randomly explode out of nowhere for no reason at all, much like a dormant volcano being not-so-dormant after all. In fact, just yesterday, Tom had asked me quite casually if I had seen his silver pocketwatch. It was a simple question, but unfortunately for him I ended up making it much more complicated than necessary by downmarking his organizational skills, and questioning his mental capacity and the possible early onset of Alzheimer's disease. Only after Tom had left me, paled, shaken and abused, did I realize the extent to which I lost my temper.

I am surprised, therefore, to find myself feeling sorry for what I had said to my brother. As impossible as he is, he _is_ my family still, and takes my words to heart, even if he pretends he does not. And I can only imagine how much his ego has deflated after taking such a critical discipline from a younger sibling, female at that.

Strangely enough, I am haunted now by the same guilt as with my brother, this time for Kartik. To be honest, I was quite nasty with him this morning, definitely more than necessary. As inappropriate as his actions were, they clearly did not deserve the physical harm I had served onto him, though I must say I had felt rather giddy from being in the dominant state for once. It was a most exhilarating experience, unfortunately, at his expense.

Sighing, I turn away from the window to inspect the mess we had mustered up during our battle. Having been rolled up with Kartik during his fall, most of the sheets are now spilt upon the floor in a hideous pile; and the condition of the remaining sheets on the bed differ little – being all twisted and turned, and suggesting the possibility of more than just slumber. With my face heating up at this thought, I immediately try to cover up the crime scene by reloading all the dirty linen back on the bed and smoothing them out as much as possible. One specific sheet catches my attention. There, in the center of the white material was a patch of red. It was a small spread, but visible none the less. And there was no doubt what the substance was – blood.

Fear gripped me as my mind raced through all the scenarios in which blood could have been drawn in my room. The first thought was that perhaps Kartik _had_ done something to me while I slept. _No, he couldn't have_, I reassured myself,_ he wouldn't have forced anything on me... would he?_ I shall have to inquire him later when I "deal" with him. With the worst possible scenario now eliminated, a comforting relief settled over me. However, it was quickly followed by a second thought.What if I had broken _him_? After all, I _had _kneed him in his weakest regions. And though the male anatomy is not my area of expertise, I would assume it is entirely possible for such an area to be "broken" and draw blood, just as any other body part would. Maybe?

Another sigh takes me as I resettle on the bed. While scanning through other possibilities, I suddenly sense a wet feeling beneath my seat. Curious, I stand up to examine the back of my chemise, only to discover a small patch of crimson on the light fabric.

It was not Kartik who was bleeding, but rather me.

_Thank heavens! _I imagine what might have happened had he witnessed the blood. Oh the horror of it! Surely there would have been a lengthy silence, entirely awkward and embarassing for both of us. Then he would probably avoid me forever, thinking I had contracted some exotic disease that causes me to bleed. And of course, explaining it to him -a _man_, would hardly be beneficial at all. Perhaps for once, luck is on my side.

A familiar knock sounds from the door, and soon the familiar face of Mrs. Jones enters the room, in her arms a fresh pile of linens.

"Good morning, Miss Doyle," she greets me, obviously surprised I am already up and about. If she only knew the reasons...

"Good morning," I reply, wiping my sweaty palms on the front of my chemise. "Um.. Mrs. Jones, I'm afraid I am at that time again..."

"Oh poor child, I swear it's a curse, this is," the housekeeper sets the linens on a desk and hustle over to steer me towards the bathroom. "Come now, you'll feel much better after a hot bath now eh? I'll be right back with some extra towels."

With that, I am left to the seclusion of my bathroom, where steaming water awaits.

For the rest of the day, I stayed in bed, getting up only to use the washroom, or to rid my lower body of numbness and "pins and needles". My grandmother chatted with me occasionally, bringing her threadwork along in the event that our conversations grew boresome, which was often. Father and Tom did not visit me; and I did not expect them to either. Men tend to stay away from unusual female issues, especially of the biological type.

It was around late evening when the cramps commenced. The growing darkness watches me as I lay there, clutching my stomach with both hands to try and dull the pain. The broth that had warmed my body half an hour ago no longer produces its effects; I am left to deal with my condition alone.

**Kartik's POV**

"Gemma... Gemma... where are you?" I ask nobody in particular as I pace back and forth in the lonely stable. I am not usually an impatient man, but tonight's particular case is most irritating, plus Gemma is not the kind of girl who would go back on her word, especially if the situation somehow involves me.

It had been Emily who brought me dinner today. She had sat across from me in complete silence the entire time while I ate, focusing her brown orbs on my every chew and gulp. Each time I glanced up, I saw her smiling at me sweetly as if it was perfectly normal to watch someone eat his meal. Needless to say, it was most unsettling. I felt as if I were a English lady being appraised by a potential suitor. Perhaps this is what my dear Gemma experiences everytime she is presented with one...

I can not take it anymore. The sun has already disappeared over the foggy west horizon, and still she has not come. Wiping my hands, I make my way stealthily into the darkening night and to the tree at the base of her window. Like a skilled predator, I quickly make my way upwards, using the first-floor window ledges as support.

I arrive in her room easily. There is a single candle burning on her bedside table; even under its dim glow, I can make out the expression on her face as she sits in her bed: pure spite and fury.

"Why are you here?"

"Can't I miss someone without being scolded?" I smile sheepily as I make my way over. "And besides, I believe we have some unfinished business to deal with."

"I am not in a state to play your games right now, Kartik, why can't you just leave me be?"Her expression does not change, however I notice now the hint of a new addition: weariness?

My face suddenly drops when it occurs to me and I quickly cross the distance in two swift strides. "Wait, what do you mean by that? Are you sick?" I peer at her face intently, searching for signs of ailment.

"No, no..." she brushes me off, breaking our eye contact. "Just... feeling a little under the weather, I suppose."

I cross my arms, "You're sick."

"No, I'm not." Such a stubborn little red-head.

"Yes, you are."

"No I'm not."

"If not, then why do I smell thick broth in the room? Your grandmother does not allow you to dine here less you are sick."

"Perhaps today's an exception?" Ah... so begins the array of excuses. I am surprised to find her breaking so easily.

I sneer, "An exception? By that grandmother of yours?"

Her eyes glare daggers. "Are you mocking my grandmother?"

"No, I am merely stating the truth."

"How _dare _you speak of my family like that?" Suddenly, my Gemma has leapt from her bed and charges at me.

Despite her strange behaviour, my eyes sparkle at the sight of her in naught but a light chemise. I take her wrists easily and position my knees between hers such that my manhood would not undergo any further mishap today. However, before I am to say anything, my nostrils are grazed by an unpleasant odour. My movements stop, as do hers when my nose wrinkles in protest.

"What?" she asks. I see nervousness in her eyes, though only barely.

I turn my head from this way to that, trying to sniff out the source. "I don't know..." I duck my head to sniff Gemma's skin, immediately met by a rosy scent. _Strange_, I think, I swore there was something...

"What is it?" she whispers again, pushing me away gently.

My brows furrow in confusion, "I swear I smelt something... fishy." I am too perplexed by this problem that I do not notice the sudden blanche in Gemma's face. When I do look at her though, her expression has returned to normal.

"Perhaps it came from some kind of spice in my broth..." she suggests.

"Perhaps..." I nod my head slowly in agreement. Deep down, I am still confused. My nose has never failed me; the odour resembled something unpleasant, nothing you would add to a meal... no, it reminded me of... _dying fish_.

I quickly shake the thoughts away and focus on the matter at hand. Gemma had settled on the bed once more, tucked to the waist by a blanket. How angelic she looks in such a timidly innocent frame, not to say that she does not look angelic any other way; but something about her expression and the way it is captured by the candle's incandescence brings a sheepish grin to my lips, as if I am once more in the initial stages of immature infatuation.

I prop myself down beside her, taking in her appearance so that my vision is clouded with nothing but it.

"Kartik, you're doing it again." I am brought back to reality by my angel's voice.

"Huh? What am I doing?"

"You are looking at me as if I were a ripe piece of fruit." Her smirk brings me to realize that I had said the same about Mr. Middleton previously.

"Well," I say, snuggling my face close to her neck, "I suppose you should run before I eat you all up."

Her responding giggle sends me into a frenzy, and immediately my lips begin to trail light kisses across her jaw. My actions are met with soft sighs and gasps; this only arouses me further and I let my mouth continue its exploration of her warm skin.

"Kartik..." Her breathy voice is a beckon. This one word sends a row of shivers down my back, swiftly followed by another row of heat. I swiftly maneuver myself in front of her, knees on either side of her body and my hands combing through the thick curls of her hair while our lips perform a spectacle of magic and passion. A thick heat spreads across my groin, overwhelming my senses with nothing but the pleasure and fixture of this moment.

By the time we are both out of breath, it is pitch black outside. A calm silence settles between us while we sit there holding each other in a snug embrace, basking in the waning candle light.

"Mmm..." I grin boyishly, as if having just experienced something most enjoyful, which is definitely a truth. "If I had known this is your technique of dealing with me, I would have come earlier."

"Well, the best always comes to those who are patient." I couldn't agree more.

"Hmmmm..."

"Kartik, what are you thinking?"

Ah, my Gemma has always been observative; either that or I give away my emotions way too easily. But she was right, I _was_ thinking. With the heat of the moment now past, my thoughts are coherent once more, and I suddenly remember the question I had been meaning to ask her.

"Gemma?... What's men...menstruation?"

The body beside mine suddenly freezes, and I suddenly fear that I have wandered onto forbidden grounds again; I take that as my cue to brace myself.

"Where did you hear about that?" Her voice is foreign: a quiet high-pitched stiffle -almost a whisper, that I have to glance at her to verify that it _was _her speaking.

"Erm... I don't remember..." I am beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable in the situation; it is almost as if I had just been caught in a trap and must face the wrath of interrogation in order to gain freedom.

"Then how do you know about it?" She asks sharply. At least now I know she knows.

"I told you, I don't remember. I just recall having heard of it before..." I answer.

"...And now you think it wise to ask me what it is?"

"Well, I suppose not..." Her questions are too quick for me to process; I find myself getting more confused by the second.

Apparently, my previous reply was not satisfactory, for I am now met with a piercing glare.

"...So you are implying I am not wise..."

"Gemma, I meant nothing of the sort."

"Yes you did! Just admit it, Kartik! You think I am just some silly English girl, just like the rest of those peacocks out on the streets!"

Her statement take me back. How did such a simple question of menstruation end up so badly? I stare back at the furious redhead, that famous pout gracing her face again. My moment of hesitation is forming ideas in her head, no doubt, ideas that more than likely involved me getting booted out of the room.

"Aww, Gems, don't be like that," I plead, "You know I don't see you that way."

"Oh? Is that right?" Her voice holds a mocking tone. "How _do_ you see me then?"

"Er... well," I begin sheepishly, "You are one of a kind. Unique, in a very good way. Strong-willed, independent, the type of girl I can see myself with..."

My head hangs low, my eyes not willing to meet hers. Hopefully she does not notice the faint flush in my cheeks; that would have been most unmanly.

"I see..." I hear her whisper, though I can not recognize with what emotion she said it with.

"Oh!" I start, "Of course you're beautiful too. How could I forget to mention that! I mean... you have such gorgeous eyes, the most brilliant hair, and soft and warm --" Luckily, I am cut off my her lips on mine before I continue to make an even bigger fool of myself. There is so much that draws me to her, and I am not sure whether she would have appreciated hearing all of the reasons...

I quickly deepen the kiss before she could pull away. This gatheres a soft moan from her throat which only drives my desire further. In one swift movement, my hands had snaked under her nightgown to find the smooth concaves of her back and shoulderblades, caressing her skin gently while holding her body closer to mine in greedy need. With our lips and limbs locked in embrace, I slowly use my upper body to force her down onto the bed until she is laying below me, panting heavily in both passion and breathlessness. My hands proceede down her side, her full hips, until disappearing behind her upper thigh into forbidden ground.

The kiss is suddenly broken as Gemma's shocked cries burst into my head. My eyes snap open to see my redheaded princess with the most terrified expression on her face. My first thought is that I had hurt her somewhere 'down there', in which case I too would be mortified by. "Gemma! What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

I climb off her quickly, pulling myself into a kneeling position between her legs. But by then, my body had froze. The room silences as both pairs of eyes focus on my left hand – the hand that was so inclined to explore Gemma's womanhood just seconds before, now smeared with patches of blood.

This time it is my turn to scream, and scream I did, not out of fright but out of utter shock and confusion.

A pillow slams onto my face and I fall backwards onto the bed. I continue to scream, but most of it is now muffled by the thick white pillow that threatens to cut off my air supply less I shut up. So I do.

Moments later, I finally calm down, too stunned to produce any further sound. The pillow slowly uncovers my face and I see a pair of distraught eyes peering down at me. My first instinct is to scream again, but instead I roll into a backward somersault off the edge of the bed. I do not fail to notice the blood that still stains my fingers.

Gemma, now wearing a serious frown on her face, slowly sits up among the sheets and smoothes out her robe. "Kartik, don't be frightened, please..." Her plead is difficult to ignore.

"What's going on, Gemma? Are you ill? Are you," I gulped, "Dying?..." No doubt only a fatal disease could produce such bloody excretions.

However Gemma only laughs. She actually _laughs_. I certainly do not see what is so hilarious here. Normally I would cross my arms right about now to display my concern, but a last second glance at my hand holds me back.

"No... Kartik, I.. am... not..._ill_," She is clutching her sides and practically in tears as she chokes out each word between laughs. I am not amused. Not one tiny bit.

"Then what's going on?"

Her laughter eventually subsides, and she pats the sheets beside her. "Go wash your hand, Kartik. I think it's about time that I introduced menstruation to you."


End file.
